Last Moments
by Sebastian the Mercat
Summary: Nathan knows Jefferson is coming for him. He has the chance to run, to escape the Dark Room once and for all. So...why doesn't he?


**_Salutations dearie! This was a very unfortunate, angsty request I recieved on Tumblr that I wrote whist in the thralls of a migraine! Joy joy!_**

 ** _As another note, I was very disappointed with episode 5 - not necessarily due to the end choice (i figured that's what it would end up being), but more the fact that the side characters we have come to know and love didn't appear anywhere except within the nightmare sequence! I am especially upset about everything having to do with Nathan. DONTNOD YOU GAVE NATHAN SO MUCH POTENTIAL!_**

 ** _*takes a deep breath* Anyway..._**

 ** _Warnings: Cursing, sadness, Jeffershit, abuse, major character death. Sorry, you can thank arxairi for this one._**

 ** _Pairing: None~_**

 ** _Important note: This contains spoilers for (that horrible fucking) episode 5! This was written after its release!_**

His breathing was quick and gasping, as he ran through the thick woods. He knew he was being loud, and in a way, he didn't care. Maybe his being loud, crashing through the woods with his loud breathing...maybe somehow, it could save someone's life.

'I'm a coward,' Nathan thought, choking on a sob, before he shook himself. No, he needed to focus on getting away from the junkyard, focus on maybe tracking Max and her friend down...if they weren't already there, if they weren't already dead or drugged or worse-

Nathan tripped over the trunk of a fallen down tree, sending himself sprawling onto the damp ground. He blinked, trying to move, but pain shot through his head - he must have knocked it against something on the way down. He groaned, trying once again to stand. However, the sound of the underbrush being disturbed behind him caused Nathan to throw caution to the wind. He soared to his feet and took off running.

He was out of time.

Nathan was not an athletic person by any means - he could throw a few punches, but even that small act always caused him to be winded. And now, when his body was weak from lack of sleep and food, not to mention having been fucked up so royally earlier that day...the adrenalin Nathan was feeling was actually doing very little to help him.

He was acutely aware of the person following him, probably gaining on him. Most definitely gaining on him. It suddenly occurred to him that he was going to die.

And somehow, the despair he expected to take over at that revelation never came. Instead, he merely felt empty, like a death by the hands of the man he once looked up to was something he always had been expecting, something his entire life had been building up for.

Something he deserved.

Nathan stopped running. He stared straight ahead, listening to the crashing of the woods behind him as he was slowly hunted down. The person behind him wasn't moving fast - in fact, they seemed to be moving at a leisurely pace. 'Of course,' Nathan thought to himself, full of disdain, 'He knows if he merely calls out, I will come crawling to him like the desperate little bitch I used to be.'

As if on cue, Mark Jefferson called out, "Nathan? Come here, Nate, I just want to talk to you." A pause. "Kiddo, I'm not going to hurt you."

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut. His heart was hurting as much as his head, with those words. He wanted desperately to believe those words. He wanted desperately to believe Jefferson cared about him. He wanted desperately to believe everything was going to be all right.

However, he knew none of those things he wished would ever come true.

Nathan took off running, but this time, he wasn't heading towards town.

He panted heavily as he circled through the woods, making an arch around where he thought Jefferson to be standing. He heard the man's gentle and kind tone switch to something vicious and harsh, but he ignored whatever words were shouted at him.

Nathan burst through into a clearing, running across the trash-laden ground as he made his way to the far side of the junkyard. He knew he didn't have much time.

He noticed a dirty, rusted knife laying on the ground, and quickly took it in his hand, a quick slash across his palm, and blood bubbled up. Working as fast as he could manage, he circled the names "Max" and "Chloe", wrote a warning, and then, painfully, crossed out the word "was" beside Her name, writing "is" in its place.

He collapsed against the wall of the clubhouse, feeling lightheaded. However, he wasn't done, yet.

He yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialed Max's number. He didn't figure she'd answer, and he certainly figured she wouldn't believe the words he spoke if she did...but Nathan had to do this.

Even if it meant he was merely waiting for his demise. Losing his life would be worth it if he could help someone else in the process.

The phone rang and rang, before finally going to voicemail.

"Max..." he gasped, before swallowing and continuing. "it's...it's Nathan..."

Words tumbled out of his mouth, so quickly and disjointed he was hardly aware of what he was saying. Apology after apology, begging to be understood...forgiven...

"I just wanted to say...I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel, or...didn't want to hurt anybody..." He squeezed his eyes shut. In his mind's eye, he saw Jefferson laying a comforting hand on his head, ruffling his hair as he spoke gentle words, before placing a syringe in his waiting hands. Letting out a sob, be whispered, "Everybody...USED me!"

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked up to see Jefferson making his way towards the clubhouse. Gun drawn. Face grave, angry.

Nathan choked on a sob. "Mr. Jefferson...is coming for me now..." he whispered. "All this shit...will be over soon..."

Mr. Jefferson made it to the door, merely standing there watching as Nathan stared tearily up at him from his place on the ground. There was a challenge in his cold eyes, as he rose an eyebrow.

Nathan sobbed, before closing his eyes and whispering, "Watch out, Max. He wants to hurt you next."

Mr. Jefferson was across the small space in an instant, standing directly over Nathan. "Sorry..." he sobbed one last time into the phone, before letting the connection go dead.

There was a beat of silence.

"You could have escaped. And yet you came back," Mr. Jefferson murmured. "Why?"

Nathan took a deep, fortifying breath, before he did the thing he had never dared to do to Mr. Jefferson. He glared up at him, from his spot on the ground - and in spite of the tears on his face and how his body shook, he had never felt stronger.

"It's all going to be over soon," he said, repeating his words to Max. "You're...you're going down."

Mr. Jefferson rose an eyebrow. "Am I?" When Nathan's response was only to glare, Mr. Jefferson sighed, taking out his gun and loading it, slowly. "You could have been great, Nathan. A real photographer."

Nathan surprised himself by suddenly laughing. "A "real photographer"?! You think I CARE about that anymore?!" He laughed again at the shocked look on Jefferson's face, before becoming serious once more. "If you shoot me dead right now, as I'm huddled on the dirty ground of a junkyard, I will still be a better person than you have or ever will be! And do you know why?"

Jefferson merely looked at him.

"If I die now, I can at least know I gave others a chance at life. At least...I'm not a complete monster."

Jefferson's foot suddenly sunk into Nathan's stomach, followed by several other harsh and painful hits. The pain was overwhelming, but also...distant? He knew he was being beaten, beaten worse than Warren could have ever done earlier that day...but somehow, Nathan felt it was worth it.

After several minutes of nonstop hits, Mr. Jefferson stood up, breathless, glaring down at the barely-living body of Nathan. Nathan's eyes, now both blackened, stared up at him.

In spite of the fact his body was covered in blood and bruises and broken bones and probably even internal bleeding, defiance still shined bright in his eyes.

"Do you think sacrificing yourself like this makes you a hero?" Jefferson snapped.

Nathan spat out a mouth full of blood, his voice gurgling when he spoke next. "N-no...not by a l-long shot..."

Mr. Jefferson suddenly yelled, "THEN WHAT'S THE POINT?!"

Nathan allowed his eyes to loll upwards, glancing out a hole in the clubhouse. Storm clouds had begun to roll in. A small smile graced his lips.

"Redemption..." he whispered, before a gunshot rang out.

 ** _A/N I'm so sorry...but if Jefferson did, in fact, kill him (guess who's on the denial train?! *raises hand*) I'd hope it would be when Nathan was trying to protect Max. I, of course, have other theories...but that's another fic for another day!_**

 ** _Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you so desire!_**


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